


no end in sight

by starfleetbanana



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 5+1 Things, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetbanana/pseuds/starfleetbanana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things Andrew absolutely hates about Neil, and one he doesn't know how to feel about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no end in sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Andreil fic so I just really hope it's not too ooc because I decided to write it from Andrew's point of view (I just want him to be humanised and get love to be honest). Inspired by Marble House by the Knife, I listened to it non stop for like 2 days to get motivated to do this, so I hope you enjoy!

It‘d started at ninety percent and a question left unanswered. They’d based whatever they had in questions, quiet ‘yes or no?’s over each other’s lips and skin, questions asked with looks and warning and even menacing touches. Andrew was absolutely certain he couldn’t hate him more, still the percentage rose up every time he kissed him and something threatened to explode within him as he touched him so very carefully. A ‘yes’ he kept repeating in his head to remember it was what Neil wanted, what Andrew wanted.

All things considered he couldn’t stop himself from muttering the question even when he was all by himself as a constant reminder Neil trusted him enough to tell the truth. Eyebrows knit together he always tried to look at Neil’s closed eyes when he kissed him, waiting for a groan or some kind of response that meant something. He was always waiting for him to say something.

Andrew was pretty sure Neil had started taking mental notes on everything he said he hated about him, making sure he’d do the same thing over and over just to piss him off and make him bite him harder, and press him harder into the mattress.

First thing was Andrew _despised_ the way Neil said ‘yes’ into the palm of his hand as he pressed it against his mouth to make him shut up, how he pretended he’d always say yes as if he knew himself enough to know he’d always want him back. In some way Andrew disliked the fact Neil tried to make sure it was he who thought that, not Nathaniel, not the kid from France, not the teenager from Germany he’d left behind years ago. Still, if Neil was sure of something, it was he wanted to have Andrew right next to him, even if he no longer needed protection.

The armbands felt like reassurance and belonging and if he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to think about his feelings for Neil, even if at first it really felt like hatred, bitter and toxic and poisonous at the touch, the more time he thought about Neil’s teeth on his neck, his hands on his chest, and the truth he’d offered him he felt something impossible to explain inside him. Maybe it was because he thought he’d never felt anything like love before, being with Neil was a world of new experiences, now brighter without his drugs.

 It’d started on a rooftop. It’d started with the need to keep everybody safe, to keep his world in as much order as he could, but now it felt completely different. Instead of protecting Neil of Riko, and the Wesninski circle, he felt like Neil was the one taking care of him through details and things that wouldn’t be too obvious so he wouldn’t end up with an elbow on his stomach –it happened sometimes when they tried to fall asleep touching each other-.

“But this is always going to be yes” Neil had said, but Andrew knew they were too many things to consider. What mattered to him the most was that Neil could accept a ‘no’ as well as he could, because for him it wasn’t always yes. Sometimes his memories were too heavy for a bottle of vodka and cigarette ashes, and Neil had a talent for intensifying whatever his brain was stopping him from truly feeling.

His thoughts were a whole new thing too. What used to be constant brain fog to stop his intrusive thoughts with the meds had become loud repetitive things making his stomach twist “ _hiseyes, hisscars, his-“._ It’d definitely been fun when he was at least feeling something artificial, and the he’d come off of his meds, and he’d wondered how long it’d take him to realize Neil was no longer fun, but it had been the other way around. Without his meds Neil seemed even more beautiful –and clearly annoying, too-, but his world had stopped being a haze and had quickly become punches on walls, rough kisses and Neil sleeping next to him, so careful not to touch him it made him angrier.

Neil had a particular way to talk to Andrew that made him feel important, but even if someone else learn to say _yes_ the way Neil did, Andrew didn’t want to feel the same thing for someone else’s words. He tried to hide it to himself, but the realization always hit him hard when he felt Neil’s fingers on his scalp and they kissed until they couldn’t breathe.

Andrew didn’t always need a yes though, sometimes he could do with a no simply to avoid silent chaos in his head, and sometimes because there were things he did thinking of Neil without Neil exactly giving his approval –Kevin being choked being one of them-. The key had meant as much to him as it had for Neil, it’d different meanings but it still burnt hot on the palm of his hand when he thought of it. He couldn’t stand the way Neil seemed to feel things _for_ him too.

That took him to the second thing he hated about the guy: Neil simply knew.

Andrew never really had much to say. When he was angry his posture and look said it all, but when he wasn’t he was quiet and non-existent, maybe a reassuring presence for Kevin. Neil got and accepted that but for some reason Andrew didn’t feel like giving him the silent treatment. What he said wasn’t a lot either but it meant so much to Neil when he relaxed and whispered “I hate you” right next to him. Honesty was everything they had –and a car for infinite road trips, according to Neil-.

With Neil, Andrew understood he had the right to tell him to stop whatever he was doing in that very moment, it wasn’t relevant whether it was for a kiss or to leave, Neil would always listen and feel embarrassed at how much attention he gave to people without meaning to. He was too good at hiding things about himself he’d forgotten how it was to get excited to share something important about him. The goalkeeper didn’t care though, none of them needed to over share to understand each other’s needs.

Their pasts were completely out of the picture, but Neil still made sure holding hands was okay with Andrew. He knew exactly how and where to touch him. Andrew hadn’t made completely clear he wasn’t to be touched below the waist unless he asked Neil to do it, but he’d never needed an explanation to keep his hands to himself when Andrew touched him, he’d gotten used to that.

After a while Andrew let himself question what it’d feel like to want to be touched, and Neil had been _so_ careful, running his calloused fingertips along his arms, neck and shoulders, pressing soft kisses to his face and jaw that Andrew pretended to hate just for a few seconds until he let himself feel loved.

Neil followed him without muttering a word. A couple of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka was all he needed to get him, he thought, but that wasn’t true. All Neil needed to be with him were the hickeys on his collarbone, the armbands, and a question he’d always answer the same way to.

Every time he got out of bed he thought of the third thing he hated about him. Most of the time there was a cup of coffee waiting for him and they’d fallen into the most domestic routine that was possible for the Foxes. During the rest of the day they’d spend the rest of their time together doing homework, sharing a tube of ice cream, watching movies, cleaning the room and kissing each other goodnight.

For Neil those were the most mundane things in the world, except domesticity had a big meaning to him since he’d never felt like he was doing those things because he wanted to. He’d always cleaned after himself to hide he’d been there at all, he’d done his homework and gone to the movies to pretend he was a normal kid trying to live a new life. Now he had that new life, and it was his, he could allow himself enjoying the chores.

According to Andrew it was way more obvious in the house in Columbia when they were alone. With the rest of the lot Neil was all privacy and urgency while Andrew didn’t care and stole kisses behind doors or on the backseat of a car.

Going to Columbia was a whole new kind of freedom for Neil. He’d grown comfortable showing his scars in front of Andrew, who knew them by heart already, so he’d walk around the house only with sweatpants on, cleaning the mess they’d probably left the last time they’d been there while Andrew took care of the groceries and whatever was they’d need when they stayed for a few days. That was enough to make him question his own behavior, but it got worse.

The house in Columbia made Andrew want to have Neil with him at all times, and it made Neil want to belong there, or at least have something to share with Andrew after they graduated. He knew for others that’d be a lot to say out loud, but he knew Andrew would only shrug and take another swig of vodka.

He couldn’t exactly say he liked it, but he felt way less sharp and murderous when Neil made breakfast and stole a spoonful of his cereal. Sometimes he had a hard time remembering the same guy next to him, trying to focus his attention on a very bad movie, who seemed so calm and soft, was the same person who’d been running away for so many years, with no name that belonged to him but so many scars that made him recognizable.

The only thing that was missing was a cat, he thought to himself laughing ironically. Then he waited to see if the movie at least kept his brain busy and when he noticed it didn’t, he stood up to cook dinner. The knife in his hand would be dangerous if Neil got close when Andrew kept thinking about what Neil didn’t like. He didn’t know whether he wanted to stab himself in the eye, or simply keep cooking with amazing frustration. Neil wouldn’t say a word about his white knuckled grip on the knife. That was exactly what took him to the fourth thing.

Neil reacted to everything in a different way. It wasn’t always bad, but it made it ten times harder to completely comprehend his feelings. The first time Andrew noticed was when they’d shared a cigarette and all he wanted was to hold it between his fingers. It reminded him of the beach, he said, a bittersweet past turning into nothing in his hands, the memories of a mother that’d tried way too hard to keep him safe falling from the rooftop like ashes.

Where Andrew couldn’t feel, Neil felt too much. Nothing about Nathaniel was a surprise ad everything about Neil Josten made him look at him with a furrowed brow and empty eyes.

He’d been somebody else for such a long time having his own feelings now was incredibly intense for both of them. Neil had decided to stay with so much fear he wouldn’t be able to protect his team, and Andrew knew he was an incredible force not to be played with. At least that much was obvious on the court.

To Andrew Neil was the kind of person that never needed to be protected, but everyone around him wanted to take care of, a hurricane that dragged people to the eye of itself to make them believe everything was alright, knowing he was going to destroy them eventually too. Neil’s _love_ burned deep within him, marking him and holding him down after he’d said “yes, please”. Sometimes he thought Neil could feel so strongly that whenever he touched him he let him have a little of it, too

And then there was a hidden side of Neil, a scared child that didn’t want to run away, but couldn’t stay. He seldom made an appearance when Neil wasn’t by himself, but Andrew had seen tears running down his cheeks, he’d heard muttered curses and he’d been woken up by the nightmares too.  . Their nightmares were something they weren’t keen on talking about.

Fifth fact he hated about Neil –yes, Neil, even if it included both of them-. Their bodies fit like two pieces of a puzzle. He knew it even if none of them wanted to test their chances touching while they slept, mainly because none of them wanted a surprise punch on the face nor a ‘good morning’ panic attack.

They kept their distance, Neil tried more than Andrew did because he was used to sharing a bed.

What annoyed him the most was it seemed if they shifted only a bit closer Neil’s forehead would press against his shoulder, Andrew’s lips somewhere near his forehead despite their height difference because of the way Neil always slept like trying to hide himself under the blankets.

None of them offered themselves to try Andrew’s theory but that was what it felt like when Andrew was on top of him and Neil placed his hands on Andrew’s waist to press him harder against him. Whenever they kissed it felt like finding a way out of a labyrinth they didn’t know they were trapped in and Andrew fought his way through it while Neil let himself be led.

They could fit their bodies in the corner of a sofa with the rest of the Foxes around them, and make a mess of the blankets they had to share during the night just to fit right. Deep inside, all they wanted to do was prove only if for a second if that’d be the truth even when nightmares, pain and shallow breathing came to haunt them.

But there was a sixth thing Andrew had never mentioned he hated, or rather _at least could stand,_ about Neil.  He knew he’d probably whisper it into his mouth as he kissed him, and with his hands he’d make him forget it as quickly as he could.

Andrew loved the way nothing could make Neil give up. Although sometimes, just like the rest of his teammates he did want to choke him because he was too stubborn, somehow, burnt, cut, hit and almost unable to walk by himself he seemed invincible.

As he’d looked at Neil’s bruised and battered figure and the obvious wounds on his face Neil still managed to look as calm as he could, keeping his focus on Andrew. He could survive it all and he’d never had anyone to prove it to. Andrew wanted to punch him when he mentioned his black eye and dismissed everything that’d happened to him.

He felt like a black hole had opened in his chest and it kept trying to suck everything he didn’t have, the void filling his insides as he took off the bandages. Neil was stronger than the FBI forcing him to give them the answers they needed; he was fiercer and burnt hotter than a dashboard lighter.

In that very moment Andrew wanted to kill everybody with his bare hands, he wanted to hurt Neil until every other wound stopped hurting, he wanted to destroy every remnant of Nathaniel and bring Neil Josten back safe and sound. He wanted to bury Nathaniel alive and Neil to stay with him, as simple as that, but he knew he didn’t need to, because Neil didn’t need anyone to help him stay alive anymore.

“Neil Abram Josten” He heard him murmur to himself, wondering if one day he’d say his own name the same way Neil did it.

**Author's Note:**

> If the 5+1 things weren't so obvious I actually wrote a list:  
> 1\. How he always says yes to him.  
> 2\. The way he just gets him.  
> 3\. Their domesticity (which is totally Neil's fault).  
> 4\. How he feels.  
> 5\. How their bodies fit together.  
> +1 How he can survive it all.
> 
> Andrew totally believes Neil's responsible for all of them.


End file.
